


Mission Operations

by slambam



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dominance, F/M, Vaginal Sex, War Table (Dragon Age), War table, this is my first fic I don't know how to taaaaaaag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:39:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5207876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slambam/pseuds/slambam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Not just in bed. Sometimes it's up against the wall. Once on the war table."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mission Operations

**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone! this is my first post, so exciting. 
> 
> this is about my vashoth mage inquisitor tasnim and iron bull (obviously), and happens quite soon after the move to skyhold, definitely before wicked eyes/wicked hearts and adamant. no spoilers here, though.
> 
> i hope you enjoy! comments are appreciated if you feel like it. I'll probably be adding more about tasnim that may not necessarily be in chronological order, but i'll make a note of things in the... notes.

Tasnim paced around her quarters, scowling at everything – the fucking bed from _Val Royeaux_ , the Antivan-made _drapery,_ the stupid Inquisition mural she didn’t ask for. Most of her crew was getting drunk at the tavern, but she knew better than to join them. Not tonight. It’d be more likely that a drinking session would end in a fistfight than a good time, and the _Herald_ isn’t allowed to get blind drunk and beat the Maker-blessed breath out of some mouthy scrub.

 

Before she could even manage a bath and some hot food, before she was even out of her armor, the absolute first fucking thing when she got back from the Western Approach – a full two weeks of traveling across Orlais for nothing more than some damn varghests, as if all the soldiers at the keep couldn’t figure out some way to kill the pests – the first thing her advisors wanted her to do was go into the war room.

 

And so, of course, she’d spent three miserable sodding hours in the war room.

 

The mountainous stack of missives and reports on her desk caught her eye, and she groaned in frustration, turning her head away from them and waving her hand dismissively as though that would make them go away. She walked back across the room, putting her back to the desk, all that fucking paper. A new wave of hot blood rose to her face as she paused to stare at nothing out the window, gritting her teeth against the humiliation.

 

If Cullen gave her that look one more time – that little knitting of his brow, a tightening of his mouth, lowering his voice to explain as though her ignorance of troop movements was a disappointment – she was going to bash him over the head with his own damn breastplate. How was she supposed to know everything about running a fucking army? Josephine, for all her good intentions, wasn’t any better. That little hesitation, that twinge of disbelief in her voice when Tasnim asked about the name of a noble, as though knowledge of all the second cousins of some noble’s second favorite horse was something hard-wired into everyone’s brain. Leliana, of course, never had anything to say. She did have this thing, though - this superior-holy-stuck-up-passive-aggressive air about her that made it feel like Tasnim’s nerves were grinding against the stone floor.

 

Tasnim was just the stupid oxman apostate who happened to fall into the fade and stumble out as the Herald of Fucking Andraste, immediately embroiled in human politics with all these obligations she was barely capable of filling the way they wanted. Maybe that’s why they sent her almost to the edge of the country to kill some Varghests, just to get her out of the way.

 

She knew they didn't mean anything by any of it, but Maker, it sometimes felt like a formality that they had her in the war room at all.

 

* * *

 

 

“Bull.”

 

He looked up from the laugh he’d been having and was reminded very briefly of the look on his Tamassran’s face when she realized he’d completely ruined a new set of clothes within ten minutes of receiving them.

 

“Yeah, boss?” He replied, suppressing a shudder at the thought and clearing his throat. “What can I do for you?”

 

“I need to see you. Privately.” Tasnim kept her voice as even as possible. Most of the crowd was drunk enough as to not to notice the knot in her jaw, the tendons of her hands straining against her skin, but she knew he would notice. He always did.

 

You didn’t need Ben-Hassrath training to guess her mental state. The tight, measured tone of her voice and the way she was standing made it obvious. He pushed back from the table and stood, shuffling around the many bodies at the tables to stand at Tasnim’s side. Krem raised an eyebrow at Bull, but managed a wobbly wave and a shrug, returning to his wine.

 

The cold air outside sobered Bull slightly, the world coming back into focus. Out of sight of the others, Tasnim exhaled quickly and shivered, then took off walking again. He followed behind, keeping pace but letting her lead. She’d relaxed a little already but kept her teeth clenched, her chin high, scorn written plainly on her face. It wasn’t like her. It wasn’t like her to walk in silence, either. Sure, she didn’t say much, but it wasn’t like this. Absolute dead silence. You could barely hear her breathe. There was something back behind the frustration, a tremor of something desperate beyond her raw, barely controlled frustration. That could be dealt with later. The more pressing concern would come first.

 

The hall echoed with their footsteps, air hazy with smoke from the torches. Bull set a hand on the small of her back as they neared the door to her quarters, digging his fingers in slightly. She shook her head at him, meeting his eyes for the first time since the tavern. Her eyes were still hard, but not cold anymore – quenched steel, the memory of the forge still set in the metal.

 

“The war room,” Her voice had turned a little raspy, and the intensity in it sent a thrill through him.

 

The war room?

 

Whatever the reason, this was going to be fun. 

 

Tasnim bolted the door behind them, pushing her weight against iron fitting a few times to make sure it would hold. Satisfied, she exhaled and prepared to turn, but before she could Bull was against her, the heat of his breath on the back of her neck and the bulk of his body covering her entirely. He tightened his hands around her wrists, pulling them both above her head and pinning them there with one. The other traveled down her side, over her thigh, pulling her hips back against his. She exhaled a low shuddering moan, pressing back against him of her own accord. He was hard already. Maker.

 

She tugged her arms free and turned, reaching up to grab his horns. He tossed his head instinctively with a low growl and gripped her waist tightly, pushing her back against the door. Tasnim kissed him hard, tightening her hands around his horns and pulling him down to her.

 

“Don’t waste time.” Tasnim’s voice was rough and low when she spoke again, muttering the three words against his mouth and kissing him harder, moving her hands to his face.

 

He was all too happy to comply, and slid both hands under her thighs, hoisting her off the floor as she bit his lower lip, drawing another deep sound from his throat.

 

Everything on the table jumped slightly as he dropped her, map markers and tankards clanging against the floor as they toppled. Tasnim gasped but didn’t complain, steadying herself enough to tug off her loose shirt, tangling it on her horns and cursing softly. She watched Bull’s face as she tossed it aside, but she didn’t have very long to look. He leaned forward to swipe the detritus and the map from behind Tasnim, pushing her down hard against the table with one hand once it was all out of the way.

 

Tasnim turned her head to one side to accommodate her horns, panting and watching Bull out of the corner of her eye, loose strands of pale hair clinging to her brow. One of the map markers hadn’t completely rolled away and the edge bit painfully into her shoulder, but she didn’t complain. It felt real. This felt real. The restraint was a comfort and she writhed, gripping the forearm that held her down and digging her nails in hard. She managed to settle one heel on the edge of the table and wrapped her other leg tightly around Bull’s hips, wriggling and trying to keep him in her line of vision.

 

He made a rough noise in his throat and popped the laces that kept her trousers up, pulling them down and taking her boots with them. Before she had a chance to think about the fact that she was stark fucking naked on the war table he’d pushed two fingers inside her, rubbing at her clit with the pad of his thumb. That was much more interesting. She reached down and touched his wrist, cursing, pressing herself down against his fingers and slowly losing coherence. Bull smirked and added a third finger just to see her yelp and writhe. That was enough, and he pulled back, reaching behind himself to unlace his massive belt, momentarily distracted.

 

Tasnim fell back against the table for a moment, catching her breath, but immediately slid down the table slightly, rolling over and starting to settle her feet on the floor. She’d been ready for two weeks, and she needed this, and he knew it. Bull caught her meaning and grabbed her hips, pulling her back against him and made sure her feet were squarely on the floor. He leaned over her, one hand on the table just above her shoulder and guided himself inside with the other, thrusting inside her fast as soon as he had it.

 

For a moment Tasnim couldn’t do anything but grip the edge of the table, white knuckled, pressing her forehead against the wood, toes curling against the floor. She sometimes forgot sometimes just how big he was after weeks on the road without him around.

 

It was nice to be reminded. A low moan escaped her and turned into a quiet wail, almost without her knowledge.

 

“Alright?” He said, gruffly, and she knew he would have waited as long as she asked him to.

 

Today, that wasn’t very long.

 

She managed a yes and he leaned back up, pulling her wrists behind her back and holding them there with one hand as he thrust, hard and fast, and it was all she could do to just remember to breathe. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she listened to Bull’s grunts and the occasional curse as she tightened around him, rolling her hips back against his whenever she was coherent enough to remember. He said her name, called her Adaar – she almost wished she knew her real name, then – then again, then twice, at one point slamming his free hand down on the table to support himself, forehead pressed between her shoulder blades. She thought she might actually die, moaning her appreciation against the table as he gripped her shoulder, pulling her back harder against him.

 

When she felt like she was close, tears in her eyes from how fucking good it felt, the tops of her thighs aching and bruised from bumping up against the edge of the table, Bull slowly pulled out, releasing her wrists. For a moment she thought he must have heard something and pushed herself up on one shaky elbow to look over her shoulder at the door. When she saw nothing changed, she glanced at Bull in confusion but before she could speak he’d taken her hips in his hands and rolled her over, carefully, making sure she settled in the right spot. She inhaled sharply as he gently spread her legs again, not quite sure what his game was, but he settled both hands on her thighs and met her eyes before pressing back in again, slow and deep.

 

What might have been a question or a complaint slurred into a moan in Tasnim’s throat, and she turned her head to one side again, settling her legs around Bull’s hips as he moved against her, inside her. He only pinned one hand down this time, palm over her wrist, holding himself up with the other hand. The sudden intimacy of it all might have embarrassed her, but she wasn’t about to complain. Not about this. She gripped the base of one of his horns loosely with her free hand before moving her hand to his neck, his shoulder, gripping it hard as he thrust just a bit faster. Bull settled his free hand on her thigh, moving one of his knees up onto the table to better his angle – a soft cry told him he’d gotten it right, and he continued, steadily, Tasnim losing herself more and more with each thrust.

 

She leaned back against the table, arching her back and grinding down against him, lifting her hips off the table sometimes just to be closer, get him deeper, digging her heels into the small of his back.

 

Bull quickened his pace again and Tasnim strained against the hand pinning her wrists, cursing louder and digging her heels in hard. Bull released her wrists and put both hands on the place where her hips met her thighs, pulling her hard into each thrust of his hips. Tasnim groaned, loudly, loud enough that she almost covered her own mouth, bumping back against his pelvis, unable to focus on anything but the white heat building slowly in her stomach, the incredible heat of Bull’s body against and inside her.

 

She came before Bull, as usual, and he rode through the spasms of her climax, grunting in a way that gave her vague, sex-hazed thoughts of going again before he pulled out, finishing himself onto her stomach.

 

For a few moments all she could do was lie there, panting and grabbing at nothing. Bull leaned heavily on the table with both arms, catching his breath, then slowly pushed himself up and slid onto the table next to her, sitting and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

 

They settled in silence for a few moments, letting the silence ring in their ears.

 

Tasnim tested her arms, cautiously, and then pushed herself up. The dizziness dissipated quickly but she decided it wasn’t worth it to stay quite that vertical yet and flopped back down with a sigh, slapping Bull on the back and letting her arm slide off, thudding on the table.

 

“…Fuck.” She murmured, staring blankly at the wall. It was all she could think to say.

 

Bull leaned back. “You’re welcome.” He shifted one arm to the table behind him, examining her. “You alright?”

 

She nodded, meeting his eye and exhaling hard. “Good… much. Better.”

 

Bull chuckled and Tasnim frowned, slowly coming back to her senses.

 

“You know, I’m pretty sure I know already, but why the war room?” Bull said, lazily watching as Tasnim shakily propped herself up on an elbow.

 

She exhaled shortly through her nose in a kind of half-laugh.

 

“I wanted someone besides my _advisors_ to fuck me here,” She muttered darkly, pulling the tie completely from her hair and pushing a few loose strands off her forehead. Bull laughed, louder this time, and she scowled at him halfheartedly before breaking into a small smile and laugh of her own. She grabbed for her shirt, still somehow on the edge of the table, and cleaned herself off.

 

“They’d be lost without you. You know that, right?”

 

Tasnim glanced at Bull, opening her mouth but closing it when she realized she didn’t have any retort. She tossed the shirt aside, off the table this time.

 

“I know you probably don’t believe me, but it’s true.” Bull’s sentence was punctuated by a grunt as he lay back, stretching one massive arm to rest behind his head. “I’ve seen what it’s like when you’re not around. They get things done, sure, but after a while they might as well be standing at the window all day pining for you to come back.”

 

He couldn’t look at her, his horns prohibited that, and she was on his blind side. Tasnim studied his profile for a moment, that scar on his mouth, then rolled onto her side, wincing and cursing under her breath. It was a good ache, but an ache nonetheless, and she knew it was going to be hellish tomorrow. She drew her legs up underneath herself, resting a hand on Bull’s chest. Bull’s good eye flickered towards her and she leaned across him as she settled, resting her cheek on one hand. He settled a hand on her thigh and squeezed slightly, watching her face, and rubbed across her skin absently with his thumb. She wasn’t sure why the small gesture surprised her so much.

 

“Is that how it is?” Her voice was a little raspy, softer. Bull caught the cynical edge to her voice. He squeezed her thigh again, then settled his hand on her hip.

 

“Those three are good at what they do, but they get so wrapped up in their crap they can’t see straight about it. You don’t know as much, maybe, but that means you can make choices with a clear mind.”

 

A little swell of warmth rose in Tasnim’s chest, but she kept it to herself, and instead raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re sweet talking me, Bull.”

 

“Why would I do that? You’re already naked.”

 

Tasnim tried to fight back a smile and lost.

 

“So, you thought about how you’re gonna put all this back together?”

 

Tasnim cursed under her breath. “Andraste’s sweet ass, no. And I don’t want to.”

 

“Need a distraction?”

 

Tasnim raised her eyebrows skeptically. “That’s some big talk.”

 

“I’ll show you what’s big.” Bull pushed himself up. Tasnim rolled off of him, barely stifling a laugh.


End file.
